


Meeting Dean Parker

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [23]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Meeting Again...for the First Time, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-23 04:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: Greg’s son Dean has finally given his father a second chance.  Now Greg can do what he’s wanted ever since his nipotes first arrived: introduce them to Dean.  It’s a wary dance as two Calvins and a Parker exchange words and impressions as only teenagers can.





	1. Meet Your Cousins

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for 03x06: Jumping at Shadows. Just the end and subplot of the episode. And I am using dialogue from the episode. This story is the twenty-third in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows “Bad Cop, Good Cop”.
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_.

Greg kept his head up and his shoulders back as he walked into the barn after his SIU investigation. He didn’t hold out any hope that Dean had hung around, but, well, at least Auror Onasi and Detective Lane would bring his _nipotes_ straight to the station. He knew the kids would hide their disappointment at his news and do their best to cheer him up.

The thought was enough to warm his face and voice as he bantered a little with his team. Then Ed turned his head, his wry delight drawing Greg’s attention at once. Greg was turning to look even as his team leader murmured a soft, “Hey,” and tilted his head at an out of the way corner. The father’s heart leapt in joy to see his son, uncertain, but still present, waiting for him.

Dean Parker, at sixteen, was already growing up to be much like his father; he shared his father’s brown eyes and slightly stocky build. Unlike Greg, he had a full head of hair, though it was the same dark brown Greg’s would be if he hadn’t lost it. His mother’s influence showed in his narrower facial structure and, though he _was_ a bit stocky, he was also leaner than his father. Brown eyes regarded Greg from under thick eyebrows and bangs that almost fell over his eyes; his full head of hair in a crew cut that was much thicker and fuller than Sam’s military style crew cut.

He looked back at his team, their encouragement showing on their faces and pulsing quietly in the background. As if he needed more encouragement, Ed reached out one arm, saying, “Come on.”

Greg waved him off with a “Yeah, yeah,” turning to face his son, trying to keep from looking too sheepish. After all, _he’d_ been the one to run off earlier…even if it _had_ been a really good reason. He moved over to Dean, babbling a bit, “Uh, hey, sorry, man, I-I… Sorry I had to take off like that before.”

Dean looked just as uncertain as Greg felt; he drew in a breath before asking, “That girl-- she okay?”

Though caught off guard by Dean’s question, Greg rallied; after a glance at Winnie, who nodded, he replied, “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, she’s gonna be okay.”

Dean smiled at his father’s response. “That’s good.”

Greg smiled back, but floundered as he looked for something else to say; Ed saved him. The team leader moved in with a quiet, but cheerful, “Hey, buddy. Remember me? Ed?”

Greg looked up at his taller friend, but still caught Dean’s half-recognizing, half-unsure expression. Ed shook Dean’s hand, ignoring the soft, “Huh?”

The Sergeant smirked and pointed upwards. “He used to have hair.”

Ed played up with a muttered, “Come on,” as Greg mimed where the hair had been and finished with a brief rub on his friend’s bald dome.

Dean was still uncertain, but he remembered a bit. “Uh, yeah, we used to go over to your place.”

Ed grinned and nodded back. “That’s right.”

Dean quirked a grin back. “Clark?”

The team leader’s smile grew broader. “That’s right,” he replied with a look between father and son. “You guys were the same age. Good.”

More confident, Dean remarked, “You had that, uh, golf course behind your place, right?” Greg scented a youthful misdemeanor coming at Dean’s smirk and Ed’s snicker. “Yeah, we used to steal golf balls when people got them on the green.”

Greg bit back his own chuckle as Ed quipped, “So how’s the life of crime going?” Behind Dean, he spotted Onasi and Roy coming in with two kids trailing behind; Onasi looked amused, Roy bemused as the teens behind them chattered on about something…Greg was betting school and the latest spells. Thankfully, the teens didn’t come charging over.

Dean grinned at the quip. “I’ve pulled back a bit,” he bantered back.

Ed, who’d spotted the new arrivals as well, remarked, “That’s good to hear.” He extended his hand, shaking Dean’s as he said, “Good to see you, Dean.”

“You, too,” Dean replied.

“All right,” Ed whispered, clapping his boss on the shoulder and winking at him.

“Yeah, we’ll see you later,” Greg remarked, shifting to watch Ed depart for a moment. The team leader signaled Roy and Onasi to follow him as he headed off. The kids stayed behind, studying Dean as Greg subtly gestured them forward.

Dean saw his father’s gesture and turned, coming face to face with his cousins as they approached. Greg saw Dean’s face twist in shock and disappointment. Rather than let him assume, Greg spoke as soon as the kids were close enough. “Dean, I’d like you to meet your cousins: Lance and Alanna Calvin.”

Dean’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the pair; Alanna dropped back behind her brother, going shy while Lance offered the slightly older boy a saucy grin. “Hi there,” the teen greeted eagerly, “You’re Uncle Greg’s son, aren’t you?”

Greg could see enough of Dean’s face to see him mouth, “ ‘Uncle Greg?’ ” before the teen shook his head and recovered enough to reply, “Yeah. Yeah.” Dean regarded the pair another few seconds before asking, tentatively, “Have I met you before? I don’t remember meeting you…”

Brown and auburn heads shook in the negative at once. Lance, still taking the lead from his shy sister, replied, “No. We moved here from England about three years ago.” A smirk was cast in Greg’s direction. “Boy, was Uncle Greg surprised when we first met him.”

Greg rolled his eyes at that; he’d have to get the cheeky brat for that one. He almost hated to shut down the cheekiness, but Dean would find out anyway. “Lance and Alanna moved here after their parents died,” he quietly informed his son. “I – and you – are some of their last remaining relatives.”

Dean looked back at him, sympathy plain to see. But he was also confused. “I had an uncle in Britain?”

“Um, not really,” Alanna finally spoke up. “Actually, both you and Uncle Greg are our distant cousins…but Uncle Greg’s easier than Cousin Greg.”

Understanding dawned; Dean nodded as she spoke. “Okay, I get it. Well, um, sorry about your parents.” Both teens inclined their heads in thanks as Dean’s nervous expression turned towards his father.

“You, uh, want to come back to our place for dinner?” Greg asked hopefully. “Not sure what all we’ve got at the moment, but we can whip something up.”

Dean looked from his father’s hopeful expression to the twin pleading expressions of his cousins and back. After a long moment, he finally said, “Sure, that sounds good.”

Greg let his smile stretch across his face. “Okay, let me just get my coat.” As he headed for the locker room, he heard Lance start asking Dean about what he liked to do for fun. Alanna was still quiet, but the shy girl was a very good listener…she’d probably catch Dean off guard a time or two before she warmed up to him. He had his son back…now if only he could keep him…


	2. Letters and Memories

Greg hunted through the refrigerator for anything quick; unfortunately, the kids had demolished the last of the leftovers that morning. Alanna appeared, practically out of nowhere, diving down into the cabinet where Greg kept the ingredients for his mother’s Italian dishes. “I’ve got this,” she announced cheerfully. “Go; talk to him.”

Greg blinked at her; once home, she’d dropped the shyness like a bad habit. “Shouldn’t _I_ be saying that to you?” he asked, a touch of wry humor in his voice.

Violet eyes rolled in his direction. “We’re not dumb, Uncle Greg; this is probably your last shot at this, am I right?”

No point in denying it; he nodded with a sigh.

“So go make a good impression,” Alanna chided, “I can handle dinner and you can come back later to nitpick.” He never did that; as he blinked, she snickered. “Boy, you’re easy tonight. Go on, get your son back.”

With a wry return grin, Greg saluted his niece and got. Lance was regaling Dean with his mathematical tale of woe…a tale of woe that had his uncle’s ears pricking; something to deal with later. Dean countered with a tale of his English teacher, laughing over how she’d marked him down for going with a playful tone in his latest paper instead of staying ‘scholarly’.

Instead of joining the boys at once, Greg detoured to his bedroom and located a wooden chest that he’d put together himself, years ago. He’d done it at the rehab place; a place that had practically dropped in his lap a day or so after he’d visited Haley. Each board, each nail, each drop and daub of glue had been painstakingly put together; the struggling father determined to do something _productive_ instead of going back to the bottle. At the end of the project, the woodshop instructor had helped him with carving the letters of his son’s name into the top of the chest. The few things of Dean’s left behind, every letter that had been sent back, even a few mementos that Greg had wanted Dean to have; it was all in the simple wooden chest.

With a deep breath, Greg hefted the chest and carried it out to the living room. Lance, mid-story – the tale of him tricking Alanna under a water park bucket if the hand motions were anything to go by – disappeared as Dean turned towards his father and automatically glanced down at the chest Greg carried. Greg carefully set the chest on his usual chair and shifted back to let Dean close. Dean’s eyes were wide as his father pulled the lid of the chest off. “This is yours, son,” Greg began. “After you and your mother left…I went downhill fast; no point in sugarcoating it.” Dean nodded without looking up. “Long story short, I got into rehab; that’s when I built this…”

“You built it?” Dean questioned, surprised as he looked closer at the chest itself.

“I had a lot of help,” Greg replied, voice wry. “There were a couple things of yours left behind; they’re all in here.” Dean’s eyes fell on the letters and he touched them, looking up curiously. “I started sending those while I was still in rehab,” Greg explained, running a hand over his head. “They all came back unopened, return to sender, so I put them in here.”

He fell silent as Dean dug through the stack, his surprise growing as he took in just how _many_ letters there were in the box. When he found the first one, marked with both tears and the Coke Greg had been drinking in lieu of alcohol, he almost choked at the date. Brown eyes came up, meeting Greg’s. “You got into rehab three weeks after we left?”

Greg gestured helplessly. “The place I found…it just kinda…landed right in front of me. I got right in; they took me almost before I’d signed all the papers.” Even now, he had no idea how he’d found the place, but it had been a lifesaver, a miracle.

Dean just stared at him, waiting, with his head cocked _just so_ to the side; Greg’s heart ached as he realized he did the _exact_ same head cock with his team sometimes.

With a soft sigh, Greg gestured to the chest. “I started building that maybe two weeks in; took me most of the rest of my rehab to finish it. Sometimes, building that thing was about the only way I could keep on the straight and narrow.” Dean huffed a breath of laughter and surprise. “Obviously, it wasn’t the _only_ thing I did there, but, well, it’s been with me ever since.” Greg cleared his throat, considering how to continue. “Once I finished the rehab, I spent a bit more time on leave, figuring out where to go next. Almost ended up leaving the force all together.” Now his son’s eyes went wide with surprise. “Then I spotted an opening for the Strategic Response Unit and applied for it. I, uh, didn’t have high hopes going into the interview, but, um, I guess they liked me enough to give me a shot. Been in the SRU ever since.”

“And now you’re the best,” Dean mused. At his father’s startled look, he elaborated, “That lady, at the desk, she told me that there was no one better than you at doing what you did today.”

“My team likes to think that,” Greg conceded, “and maybe they’re right, but _I’ve_ never seen myself that way, son. I know all too well how far I still have to go; how easy it would be to fall right back into doing what I did back then.”

“You won’t.” Greg’s brows shot up at that soft, confident statement. “My cousins, your team…I’m not blind, sir. They won’t _let_ you fall.”

* * * * *

Alanna, assisted by her brother, had outdone all her prior cooking performances on dinner: Greg and Dean arrived to a veritable feast and the pair had also arranged for father and son to have the best two chairs. Dinner stayed away from any heavy topics; Lance and Alanna chatting with Dean about his school and friends, interspersing a few questions about what Dallas was like.

Greg kept quiet, watching his son and his _nipotes_ interact; the three teens cheerfully trading banter, barbs, and stories, but never once did his _nipotes_ drop so much as a _hint_ about their magic. In a way, it was sad; Dean could never really get to know them with such a big part of their lives hidden from him. It made Greg grateful, all over again, that with his team, the secrecy had lasted all of _maybe_ four, five hours. His _nipotes_ hadn’t had to hide who and what they were from his team; they hadn’t been forced to keep back their best stories and talents like they were doing now with Dean. Maybe, if Dean came back again, he could get his son clearance to sign onto the Official Secrets Act and get the full story. If Dean came back…

Dean laughed aloud as Alanna loudly insisted that what Dean called soccer was actually _football_. Lance nodded agreement with his sister in the background, but Dean, still laughing explained, “In Britain it _is_ called football, but in America, it’s soccer.”

Now Alanna gave the older boy a perplexed look. “Why call it two different things then?”

Dean shrugged, spreading his hands helplessly. “Don’t know, ‘Lanna. Wish I did.”

Violet eyes shifted to Greg, who chuckled at her expression. “Sometimes,” he mused cheerfully, “The English language does not make a bit of sense, _mia nipote_.”

This prompted a roar of laughter from Dean; he’d relaxed more and more as the evening went on. As he recovered, his eyes fell on a nearby clock and laughter vanished as he sat up straight. Greg and the other kids went on the alert, picking up Dean’s alarm at once.

“Dean?” Greg inquired at his son’s dismayed expression.

Dean looked at his father, eyes wide. “I’m late,” he blurted, “The movie ended _hours_ ago.” Distress shone. “Mom’s going to be really mad at me.”


	3. Until We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a bit of checking around and if Dean's mother and stepfather were ever named in the series, I can't find it. Now, admittedly, I have not memorized every last episode, so I could be wrong. If anyone can find (and cite) an episode where Dean's mother (and/or stepfather) is named, I'll come back and change her (his) name, but, for right now, I get to name her.

At first, Dean tried to insist that he could take the bus, but Greg refused to let his son leave alone; he argued that Catherine likely already knew that Dean had come to see him, so trying to hide that fact was meaningless. Not to mention that Catherine would _not_ be impressed if he let their son trek back to his aunt’s house alone.

So Greg overruled his son’s protests and shepherded all three children downstairs and into his car. Lance and Alanna took the opening to start telling Dean all about Team One and _their_ families, though any family issues were skipped over; Greg noted a slightly guilty expression when they mentioned Wordy…Dean didn’t seem to notice anything. Greg interrupted long enough to confirm his former sister-in-law’s address, then let the three teens talk as he navigated through the darkening streets.

They arrived at a home much like Eddie’s, a two-story house in a quiet neighborhood, with lawns and the proverbial white picket fences and plenty for kids to do. Greg pulled into the driveway and got out, feeling a bit of a pang for the days when a place like this had been home to _him_ and _his_ family. But those days were long behind him and he was just grateful for the second chances he’d been given. Dean clambered out of the front seat as his two cousins tumbled out of the back seat.

For a moment, father and son faced each other across the car’s roof, then Dean offered Greg a genuine smile. “It-it was nice to see you again,” the teen remarked, awkward all over again.

Greg smiled back and quickly rounded the front of his car to pull Dean into another hug, real and tight. After several seconds, the SRU Sergeant pulled back, tears in his eyes. He was opening his mouth to reply when his ex-wife appeared, racing out of the house’s front door and darting across the lawn to her son. Dean was all but snatched away from Greg as she pulled him away, drawing low, but furious hisses from Greg’s _nipotes_.

“What are you doing with my son?” Catherine spat at her ex-husband, positioning herself between Dean and his father.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Dean protested, “He was just bringing me back, that’s all.” The teenager tried to move past his mother, but she blocked his path. “Mom, I’m just getting something out of the car,” Dean objected.

“You don’t need anything of his,” Catherine replied, her stare on her ex-husband and sparks flying out of light brown eyes. She was slender, compared to both her son and ex-husband, with long dark brown hair that was caught up in a ponytail, and petite, pert features. Movement drew her gaze to the side and she almost gaped at the two teens glaring at her from their spot next to the open back door. “What’s this?” she demanded, swinging back to Greg, “Your _new_ family?”

It was clear what her assumption was, but Greg didn’t get a chance to defend himself; Dean did it _for_ him. An exasperated, “ _Mom!_ ” came from the teen. “They’re my cousins: Lance and Alanna. They moved here a few years ago; they live with Da…uh…Greg.”

Silence hung as Catherine looked between her ex-husband and the two kids, eyes wide. Lance rolled his eyes and walked to the front seat, grabbing the chest Greg had given his son out of the seat and quite deliberately going over to Dean with it. When Catherine shifted to intercept him, Lance drew back. “It’s _Dean’s_ ,” the young man informed her hotly.

Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “My _son_ doesn’t need anything from his _father_ …he has everything he needs from his stepfather.” She looked at Greg, sparks still flying from her eyes. “Dean’s going to take his stepfather’s name.”

“So he told me,” Greg replied, his ‘negotiator’ mask firmly in place. “Dean showed up this afternoon at my job to ask me to drop the lawsuit. I had a call out before we could finish our discussion and I asked Dean to wait until I came back. So if you need someone to blame for Dean getting back late, blame me.”

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Catherine hissed. She tilted her head at Lance and Alanna. “Who was stupid enough to give you two _more_ kids to ruin?”

It was very, very fortunate that neither Dean nor his mother were looking at the kids at that split second: two pairs of eyes glowed as the teens registered the insult to both their parents and their uncle. Greg cleared his throat loudly and very deliberately gave them the signal to stand down…just as he’d do with his team. It took several seconds, but they obeyed, though they stayed alert and unhappy. Dean arched a brow at the hand signals, his expression curious, but Catherine just shook her head.

“As a matter of fact,” Greg replied calmly, “My cousin, Arthur Calvin, designated me as the children’s guardian in the event of his and his wife’s deaths. They died three years ago; the children were brought to Toronto two days afterwards.” As he finished, he gave Catherine a hard look: she could insult him all she liked, he deserved it, but she did _not_ get to insult two people she’d never even met.

Catherine stepped closer, her eyes going even harder. “You aren’t _fit_ to raise so much as a _rat_ , much less two orphaned children.”

“Take that back!” Alanna shrieked, “Uncle Greg’s been the _best_ guardian we could have ever hoped for…he’s taken care of us, no matter _what_.”

“Mom, stop,” Dean pleaded, “Dad’s different, he’s _changed_. He saved a little girl’s life today and I didn’t see so much as a _drop_ of alcohol in his apartment.” At his father’s startled expression, Dean shrugged. “I looked.”

Catherine was caught off guard, but not for long; she rounded on Greg, hissing, “Never come near _my_ son again!”

Greg met her gaze squarely. “That’s up to Dean,” he replied calmly. “If Dean still wants me to drop the lawsuit, I will…if _he_ wants me to, Catherine,” he added as she made to interrupt. “Otherwise, I believe this is Dean’s choice now…or it soon will be. If _our_ son wants to see me, I’m not going to say ‘no’.” Greg looked at his son, hope shining, then he shifted back to Catherine. “All those years, I wasted them,” he remarked, his voice flat, “I was so busy with my own problems that I forgot about my family. That’s _my_ fault…that’s _my_ fault…and I don’t blame you for leaving and moving on, Catherine. I deserved it.” He paused, watching his son and his _nipotes_. “I didn’t deserve a second chance, but I got one anyway,” he admitted quietly. “If our son chooses to give me a second chance, I’ll grab onto it with both hands, but it’s _his_ choice. Not yours and not mine… _his_.”

The former Mrs. Parker looked between her ex-husband and her son, deflating at her son’s pleading expression. Ignoring everyone else, she stepped close to her son, looking him in the eye. “Dean, are you sure?” she asked, “All you have to do is say the words and you never have to see him again. You have a _new_ father, a _new_ dad, who’s never going to do to you what _he_ did.”

Dean licked his lips, but broke away from his mother’s gaze. “Did you know he wrote me?” the teen asked suddenly. He hefted the chest that Lance had snuck into his grip while his parents faced off. “All of ‘em were sent back.”

Catherine scowled. “Yes, I know. I sent them back…we didn’t _need_ anything of _his_.”

Hurt shone in Dean’s eyes, matched by the hurt in Greg’s. “I-I…I’m going to give him another chance, Mom. If worst comes to worst, all I have to do is wait until I turn eighteen.”

* * * * *

Father and son looked at each other; Catherine had withdrawn to a safe distance as they farewelled each other. “I’ll…umm…I’ll see about coming back once the school year’s over,” Dean offered.

“That sounds good,” Greg returned, quirking a little smile. “You, uh, you gonna fly?”

Dean blinked at that; in the background, Lance snickered. A wry, “Guess that’s _one_ thing he didn’t inherit,” floated over to the two; Greg flushed bright red as Dean understood in his own turn and laughed.

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, still chuckling, “I’ll fly up.” Silence fell, but, for once all day, not awkward. The young man extended his hand, as he had at the station, “It was really nice to see you, Dad.”

Greg forced himself to merely shake hands with his son. “Likewise, son. I’ll keep writing, keep you up on the antics,” he tilted his head at his _nipotes_ , “ _those_ two pull.”

Dean grinned. “Sounds good,” he confirmed, eyes lighting up. “Just, uh, don’t forget to tell me about what _you’re_ up to, too.”

“Copy that,” Greg agreed; his smile so wide that any wider was quite impossible. He stepped back, releasing his son’s hand. “Safe trip.”

Dean paused next to his mother, still hefting the chest. “Until we meet again,” he called back.

Greg felt two arms wrap around his waist and Alanna leaned her head against his chest. “We’ll see him again,” the violet-eyed witch remarked.

“I hope so,” Greg murmured, watching his son as long as he could.

“We will,” Lance, soft, but confident, “It might not be for a while, but he’ll come back.”

Greg’s brows hiked and, looking down, he noticed his nephew’s eyes were glinting gold. A shiver went up his back, a memory tingling in the back of his mind, but it didn’t surface. As the trio headed back to his car and turned towards home, Greg focused on the road, pushing his lingering questions aside for now. He’d gotten to see his son again…and he had a second chance with his son…more than he’d even dared dream of.

“So,” he drawled, “Who’s up for a few games of Clue when we get home?”

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*curtain sweeps closed*_ I hope you enjoyed...please, please read and comment. I'm at the end of my first week in a new job/coding boot camp and I'm very, very, _very_ overwhelmed. If I can't keep up, I lose the job, so, yeah...no pressure. I'm actually stealing valuable shut-eye to get this proofed the night before posting.
> 
> Comments would be nice. Prayers would be even nicer - I can use every last whisper of help right now. I will _try_ to get the first chapter of our next story "Defying the Odds" up on Tuesday, March 6th, 2018, but I cannot promise. Unless I wash out...in which case, I will need something to console myself with and I'll probably post the whole darn story in an effort to get sympathy.
> 
> So, in closing, if you like _any_ of my work, please, pray for me. If this new job works out, I'll be way ahead of where I am now. If not, well, I'll need even more prayer.


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